


somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond

by blackkat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Families of Choice, Human Trafficking, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, Mandalorian Empire (Star Wars), Romance, briefly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28710660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: When Jon goes undercover to rescue a stolen padawan in the sprawling Mandalorian Empire, he expects danger and potential death. Hedoesn'texpect to be captured by the Mand'alor himself during a raid. It's been five hundred years since the Jedi Order operated openly, and Jon isn't about to be the one to reveal their existence, but between Katooni needing to learn control, Jaster Mereel being nothing like what Jon expects, and threats within the Mandalorian court itself, the danger of exposure just keeps growing.
Relationships: Jon Antilles & Katooni, Jon Antilles/Jaster Mereel
Comments: 122
Kudos: 1047
Collections: Absolute favourites, Best in Fandom





	1. Chapter 1

If Nico doesn’t stop comming him, Jon is going to lose the whole comm unit down a lava tube.

He gives the quiet beeping of an incoming signal an unfriendly look, then pulls his sleeve down over it again, not willing to waste time soothing Nico's concerns when there's a Jedi in danger, and a padawan especially. _Particularly_ when Nico himself agreed that extreme measures were necessary, given how the girl disappeared within the borders of the Mandalorian Empire.

Of course, Nico might, potentially, be comming Jon about what happened to the girl’s Master, but—Jon doesn’t want to answer questions about that, either. Pong Krell gave her up to appease his captors, sold the padawan he should have given his own life for to save his own skin, and fell to the Dark Side in his cowardice. Jon refuses to regret anything he did to Krell.

The beeping stops without restarting for a solid ten seconds, and Jon spares the breath for a sigh of relief, raising his head to peer down the curve of the road where it cuts through the steppe. The land here is pockmarked with lava tubes, sudden openings that are all but hidden in the tall golden grasses, and the road winds between them, sloping up towards the vast young mountains in the distance.

There are a handful of tubes with scaffolding around them, marked out, and Jon tracks the numbers of them as he passes, keeping his hood pulled low over his eyes. No one here is going to look closely at a lone bounty hunter, especially aboveground, where the predators keep most people away and only the most dangerous or most idiotic wander freely. Once he gets into the right tube, he’ll have to be a little more careful about his cover; a handful of the people he’s heard will be attending the auction are collectors, and buying up a real Jedi would be a dream for any of them.

The padawan won't tell anyone what she is. No real Jedi would. If Jon is extremely quick and extremely lucky, he might be able to sow doubt about Krell’s claim, might be able to shatter faith in his words even before he rescues the girl. All of his sources said that this event would be heavily attended, and Jon's cover as a bounty hunter is good enough to put some weight behind a few doubting whispers.

The beeping of his comm suddenly sounds again, a slightly different tone, and Jon sighs through his nose, tugging his sleeve up enough to check the code. At the sight of Knol's, he winces faintly, because she at least won't be _nearly_ as restrained as Nico when they meet again. For a moment he debates answering it, but—

The tunnel he needs is right ahead, and Jon needs to move quickly.

The grass is twice Jon's height, swallows him completely when he turns off the road and pushes into it. There's no visible path through it, but Jon can feel the pull, the urgency guiding his feet, and he keeps moving, ignoring the rustle of something large passing close by. The animals here won't bother him, won't even see him, and he has more important things to focus on.

There’s a man slumped on the platform that covers the lava tube, blaster propped on his knees and eyes watchful. He scans Jon as he approaches, then deliberately sits up, and says, “Wrong path, friend.”

Jon snorts, flipping him a credit chip as he pushes past. “Just taking a look at what’s on offer,” he answers, and the watchman huffs, pocketing the chip and jerking his chin.

“Straight down four levels, and it’s the tunnel marked with red.”

Jon inclines his head, leaping up onto the platform. There's a ladder leading downwards, straight into the wide vent, and Jon only uses it for the first few meters before he simply grips the sides and drops, counting levels of branching flows before he hits the fourth and catches himself on the rungs, then leaps for the one marked with a smear of red paint. There's another guard waiting, a Falleen in heavy armor, and she eyes Jon but steps aside to let him pass.

“Antilles,” she says.

There's a vague trace of recognition, a flicker of suspicion that he’s seen her in the Bounty Hunter’s Guild before, so Jon nods politely, tugging his hood back slightly. “Not quite hunting bounties,” he says.

The Falleen pulls a face, leaning back against the wall of the cave. “Paying off a debt to the Hutts,” she says, displeased. “Lots of money quick is hard to turn down, even if it means working auctions.”

Jon pauses, considering. “Anything you need help with?” he asks quietly.

Her smile goes crooked. “Gardulla the Younger got my half-sister off Zeltros. Have to finish paying them off before I get her back.”

With a faint grimace, Jon glances down the tunnel, and a part of him wants to hand over the credits she needs, or bribe her for the sake of giving her the credits and earning himself a way out at the same time, but—this is a Jedi matter. There are few enough Jedi left, scattered and hidden as they are, and he _can't_ trust anyone else with this.

The urge to help the Falleen is strong, but—there's a child in danger, and she was already betrayed by her Master. Jon won't let any more harm come to her.

“Hope you got paid ahead of time,” he says instead, a little dry. “If they have a bad night, they might stiff you.”

The woman scoffs. “Not my first job, Antilles. I get all my pay up front or I don’t take the job.”

Allowing himself a flicker of relief, Jon inclines his head to her, and says, “Good luck, then.”

“You too.” Her smile is vicious. “Plenty of big bounties in that room.”

“Payday,” Jon says blandly, and she laughs, waving him on. Jon goes, following the tunnel down a long, straight stretch and up a flight of stairs, past walls covered in natural crystals that glitter dully, and out into a wide room with low ceilings and too many people. The crowd is an unsettling mix of pirates and slavers and businessmen, and Jon keeps his head down as he slides around the edges. There's a section cordoned off, near where the biggest press of people are milling, and Jon looks across their heads as best he can, spots the edges of a shimmering barrier, and then turns. There's a jut of stone right up against the wall, like a stalagmite that’s had the point broken off, and he grabs it, pulls himself up and looks again.

Just as he does, the little Tholothian girl curled in the cell glances up, and their eyes meet across the crowd.

Jon's heart turns over in his chest, and he _can't_ draw attention to himself, can't risk it yet, but he still raises his hands, folding them together and bowing over them just slightly. It’s enough; the girl’s eyes widen, and Jon can feel the surge of hope that streaks through her, the relief and joy and gratitude. Her expression is quickly controlled, though, and she ducks her head again, burying her face in her arms as her tendrils tremble faintly. To anyone else it would likely look like despair, but Jon closes his eyes against the fierce light of her hope and has to breathe carefully.

This is the life Krell traded for his own. _This_ is the child he sold to save himself.

Jon should have killed him slowly.

Quickly, Jon scans the room, pinpointing lights, exits, the controls for the barrier. There's no way Jon can risk drawing his lightsaber, not here and now—Jedi are rumors, legends, and confirming those tales in view of this crowd will set every last one of them to hunt down what Jedi remain. The odds that they’d be able to find the scattered cells of Jedi still operating in the galaxy are slim, but—entirely too high to be reckless.

Sliding down from the stone, Jon lands, straightens. He keeps his head down, slipping back into the crowd, and it’s easy to note the people the Falleen woman meant, the big names with bigger bounties attached. Jon doesn’t have any sort of plan, because that’s not how Jedi work, but—taking one of them and grabbing the girl at the same time is a possibility. He could play it off as being hired by a rival, with the girl as a bonus.

It feels right, and Jon breathes out, touches the blaster at his hip. There's a vibrosword across his back, and he has a handful of thermal detonators, a flashbang. The lights are low enough to reach fairly easily, and he can't see too many species in the crowd who will be able to see in the complete darkness. He’ll shoot out the lights, then deactivate the barrier and grab the padawan, get her out and into the tunnels and then teleport them to the surface. If he lands them in the grass, he doesn’t have to worry about being seen, and his ship is in the port, barely a kilometer away downhill. They’ll be able to make it there.

Scanning vantage points, Jon pushes towards the front, where a familiar man is talking with an unimpressed Zygerrian woman who looks more like she’s about to sink her claws into Dryden Vos’s face than anything. Jon skirts them carefully, avoids a Dug carrying a platter of drinks, and then pauses. There's something he’s missing, and he can't tell what, but—

Through the press of bodies, the Tholothian girl catches his eye, then looks past him, towards the wall. Jon turns, searching for what she noticed, and goes still with an inward curse.

Mandalorians. There are Mandalorians here, a pair of them leaning up against the stone in full armor. They're watching the crowd, and Jon can't see any symbols on their armor, any affiliations that they’ve made clear, but if they're at an underground auction the odds are they're not following the Mand’alor’s orders. That means they're likely with the Death Watch, and the fact that they would be _here_ , watching the auction of a girl who’s rumored to be a Jedi, isn't a good sign.

Still. Jon takes a breath, lets his alarm slide out into something more even, more manageable. He catches the padawan’s eye again, inclining his head in thanks, and she tips her chin in return, just enough for Jon to catch it. Jon steps back, tucking himself into the shadow of a cage holding an akk wolf, and sweeps another look over the crowd, trying to pinpoint a good target. Dryden Vos is a possibility, but he’s dangerous, good in a fight, and Jon doesn’t need to make his life more complicated. There's a Pyke standing nearby, in deep conversation with a Human man, and Jon considers both of them, then catches sight of blue skin and horns. Mas Amedda is right up next to the barrier, watching the padawan, and he looks bored, but he isn't moving.

Sold out his people, Jon thinks, and breathes through it. Sold them out and let Changria be taken over by the Mining Guild. Agen and T'ra managed to root them out, give the people a chance to fight back and throw the Guild off their world, but—that doesn’t change what Amedda did.

Well. At least Jon won't have to feel bad about this.

Taking another careful look around the room, Jon slides away from the akk wolf, passing another cage with a nexu curled up inside it. She tips her head, one of her sets of eyes blinking open, and Jon makes a soothing sound low in his throat, touching her mind. She’s _hungry_ , and he considers the lock on her cage, how simple it would be to snap it, and files that away as another distraction. A good one, if he can let both her and the akk wolf out—

“Pretty, isn't it?” a low voice says, and Jon doesn’t flinch, doesn’t twitch even if the urge is there. He just turns his head, looking at the man standing right behind him, and the man smiles faintly. He’s big, broad and only a little shorter than Jon, with dark hair cut short and a short, neatly trimmed beard. Jon flicks a glance over him, but doesn’t recognize him, and—with a face like that, square-jawed and handsome, he thinks he would remember.

“Very,” Jon says steadily, and the man takes a step closer, right up next to Jon. He’s dressed in blue, simple clothes in comparison to everyone else here, and Jon can see at least one blaster beneath his coat. The man makes no threatening moves, though, just watches the nexu as she sits up as much as the cage will allow, and Jon catches the flicker of something close to regret in the man.

“Not quite the forest it’s meant for,” the stranger murmurs, and steps closer again—

With a snarl, the nexu slams herself against the bars, quills bristling, claws lashing. The man jerks back, and Jon steps into the space before she can draw attention to them, pressing his thoughts against hers. Images, concepts, not actual words, but— _hunt, eat soon_ isn't something that needs much explanation. He reaches out, and she hisses but doesn’t lash at him with her claws, and Jon presses her paws away from the bars, back towards the door of the cage. She lets herself be moved, a low growl still rumbling in her throat but a willingness to wait rising.

“Easy,” Jon tells her, and she hisses, but when Jon presses a hand to the wide, flat wedge of her head, she butts at his palm, lets him rub the scent sacs on her cheeks, and sinks back down, tail-tips twitching.

There's a moment of silence, then a quiet snort. “A friend to animals?” the stranger asks, and Jon can feel the weight of the man’s attention on his back, like a hand.

“She’s just hungry,” Jon says, without looking away from the nexu as he scratches her chin. “And angry.”

“Understandably.” There's another pause, and then the man takes a careful step forward. One eye opening, the nexu growls, but she doesn’t move away from Jon's touch, and the man relaxes faintly. “Most people wouldn’t stick their hand into a cage with an angry nexu.”

Jon snorts quietly, pulling back, and the nexu makes a sad sound but doesn’t try to follow. “She knows I'm not the one who put her there,” he counters, and turns, facing the man squarely. He’s close, close enough to make Jon's skin itch, but there's nowhere to go except back up against the nexu’s cage.

And then, like he can see Jon's wariness, the man takes a deliberate step back, hooking his fingers into his belt. Nonthreatening, and deliberately so, Jon thinks, and—

That’s not what he would expect from someone here.

“This isn't the normal sort of place for a bounty hunter. You're looking for someone, I assume,” the man says, and his dark eyes are sharp.

Jon doesn’t freeze, doesn’t waver. “I'm on a job,” he says, and lets it stand as either denial or agreement, depending on what the man wants to hear.

The man makes a thoughtful sound, still watching. “And who hired you?”

There's no way of telling what this man will do if Jon refuses to answer. If he causes a scene, Jon will have to act immediately, go for the girl at once and hope for the best. “I don’t betray my employers,” Jon says, deliberate, and the man smiles, just a little.

“A bounty hunter with morals? That’s rare, these days.”

“Was there something you wanted?” Jon asks flatly, and the man snorts, the curve of his mouth going rueful.

“Your name?” he asks, and Jon frowns.

“Jon Antilles,” he says, and when the man starts to open his mouth, doubt on his face, Jon shakes his head. “It’s the one people know me by. In the Guild.”

The man inclines his head, accepting that, but doesn’t offer his own name. “Jon,” he echoes, and then meets Jon's eyes squarely. “A word of advice, from one mercenary to another. Finish your business and leave quickly. The people running this auction are part of Death Watch.”

Jon freezes, breath tangling in his lungs. His contacts missed that detail. But—if the Death Watch is involved in the actual running of this event, and given how they're currently within the boundaries of the Mandalorian Empire—

Jon's skin prickles, and the stranger smiles. “I like a man who’s good with animals,” he says. “Be careful.”

Turning, he vanishes back into the crowd, and Jon watches as he’s swallowed up by it, trying to remember how to breathe. If the Death Watch is here, and people _know_ that, it means the True Mandalorians can't be far behind. They’ve been rooting the Death Watch and all its terrorist cells out of their empire without mercy, and Jon can't risk getting himself or the girl caught in something like that. It’s likely what the padawan was trying to warn him about, too.

With a muttered curse, Jon pushes past Dryden, ducks a man with a tray, and heads for the edge of the padawan’s cell, drawing his blaster. There's no time to spread rumors now; he’ll have to attempt that later, cast aspersions on Krell well after the event, and it’s messier, but still better than getting caught between the _Haat_ _Mando’ade_ and the Death Watch.

When he glances over, the girl is watching him, still curled up with her arms wrapped around her knees, but there's an alertness to her that says she’s ready to move as soon as Jon gives her an opening. He nods, and she tenses faintly, watching as he turns, clouds the thoughts of those next to him just enough that they won't pay attention to him and then levels his blaster at the ceiling.

The first shot hits with a spray of sparks, and the light goes out. Jon takes out the next two as the screams start, and then spins, twisting a hand beneath the cover of his cloak. He feels it when the locks on the nexu and akk wolf’s cages give, and he grabs for the nexu’s mind, shoves urgency at her, and in an instant she’s slamming her way out of the cage with a howl of glee, grabbing for the closest guest. The akk wolf is right behind her, snarling ferociously as it barrels into the throng, and Jon doesn’t wait to see what they do. Lunging, he draws his vibrosword, swings for Mas Amedda and deliberately misses, sheering through the control panel for the barrier. With a cry, Amedda recoils, but Jon grabs him by one horn, hauls him forward and slams him down into stone to knock him out, then sheaths his sword and reaches.

The padawan leaps for him, grabs his hand, and Jon hauls her up onto his back. She wraps her arms and legs around him, and Jon drives a hypo full of sedative into Amedda’s shoulder, hauls him up again, and drags him towards the narrow tunnel behind where the barrier was. There’s a man there, a guard, clearly taken by surprise, and Jon hits him full-on, knocks him into the wall and keeps moving, dragging Amedda with him.

“You _came_!” the girl cries in his ear, and her arms squeeze around his neck. “I thought—”

“Of course I did,” Jon says, grabbing her arm and squeezing in return. “This tunnel?”

“Leads to the holding pens,” the girl reports immediately. “Third opening, on the left. There are two more tunnels, but there's a flow leading back to the surface, too.”

“Good girl,” Jon says, and picks up his pace. The holding cells are obvious; there's another barrier set up, another akk wolf in a pen, and Jon breaks that lock as well, then deliberately drops Amedda as the akk wolf bursts through the door. It turns, distracted, and Jon leaves it, twisting to drop the padawan on her feet. She lands lightly, immediately latches onto his wrist and picks up a run, and Jon slides his hand down to lock around hers, shoulders through a door that feels right, and locks it behind them, destroying the panel with a blaster-bolt.

There's no time, but—

Turning, Jon crouches down, pulling his hood back. “Are you all right?” he asks the girl.

She nods, tightening her grip on his hand. “I was scared,” she admits. “But when I saw you, I wasn’t anymore.” Her smile is tentative, but bright all the same. “I'm Katooni.”

“Katooni,” Jon repeats, and offers her a smile in return. He knows he doesn’t have the most reassuring face, but—at least he’s not staring at her through a barrier and wondering how many credits she’s worth. “I'm Master Jon Antilles.”

Katooni swallows, then throws herself forward, wrapping her arms around him, and Jon hugs her back, letting out a heavy breath. She’s small, and she’s shaking, and his chest feels hollowed out and aching, but—there's joy there, too. He got her back before anything could happen. “You're safe now,” he promises quietly, and pulls back, brushing a hand over her tendrils. They're loose, even her headdress stripped from her, but—Krell is dead, and that leaves Jon as her Master. He can take her to Tholoth, get her another headdress if she wants it.

“I know,” Katooni says, muffled by his cloak. “I knew as soon as I saw you.”

Jon closes his eyes, then pulls her in and hugs her once more. “You’re brave,” he says simply, and feels her fingers curl in his cloak. “We need to leave. Can you run, or should I carry you?”

“I can run,” Katooni promises, and she takes Jon's hand again as he rises. “I didn’t tell them anything.”

“I know,” Jon says, brushing her tendrils again, and leads her down a corridor lit only by a single flickering light. “My ship is in the port. We just need to get there.”

“The flow up ahead is how they brought me in,” Katooni says, pointing towards another door. “I was paying attention so I could get out if I saw a chance.”

“Clever,” Jon praises, and she grins at him. He smiles back, throat tight, and—

He’s never had an apprentice, left Dark Woman and never planned to take one on, even if all Jedi should to keep their Order alive. But—Katooni needs someone, and Jon rescued her. He can't abandon her now. And…he doesn’t have to be like Dark Woman, if he’s her teacher. He can be like Fay instead.

“Just ahead,” Katooni urges, and she’s the first one to reach for the button beside the door, to trigger it. Jon glances behind them, hearing voices, and turns back, taking three long steps into the dark room—

A blaster barrel shoves into his chest, and a man’s voice says, low and dangerous, “Keep walking, _chaavla_. Let’s see what it gets you.”

Jon doesn’t even hesitate. He drops, pulling Katooni down with him, and hears her startled cry as a blaster fires over their heads. Lunging backwards, he tries to get them back out the door, but hands grab him, grab his hair, and the full weight of a body slams him into the floor, cracking his face against stone. Bright spots spin behind Jon's eyes, but he rolls, spits a mouthful of blood at the person holding him, feels metal against his hand and doesn’t hesitate. A touch of Force-assisted speed has him twisting, grabbing armor, and he flips over the Mandalorian’s back, hears her curse, and drives the butt of his blaster down. It resounds off her helmet with a clang, and she sweeps a foot out, tries to foul his feet. Jon leaps back, hears a thump, and ducks as Katooni shouts. He hits the Mandalorian holding her in the stomach, and she jerks out of his grip, kicks out at a knee, and the man goes down with a cry.

“Katooni, _go_!” he shouts, and she doesn’t hesitate, leaps past him towards the door—

The haft of a spear hits Jon in the side of the head, and he goes down, a cry wrenched from him. A blaster shoves up against his throat, clear warning, and Jon freezes. At the same moment, there's a snarl, a curse, and Katooni shrieks. A body hits the ground beside Jon, scrambles up, and a moment later a light flickers on.

A Mandalorian in green armor is staring down at Jon, blaster pistol flush against his skin, and a half-dozen others all have their weapons pointed. Katooni is in the grip of a woman in black and yellow armor, and there's another man in blue just staggering upright with a sound of pain.

“You all right, Myles?” the woman asks, her voice full of amusement even as she locks her arm beneath Katooni's chin. “I think she dented your codpiece.”

The man in blue mutters something uncomplimentary in Mando’a, and the woman snorts. She tips her head, then asks, “Jango?”

“Hang onto them,” the man holding Jon tells her. “Jaster should be almost done.”

“And still no Vizsla,” the woman says, displeased. With a sound of grim agreement, Jango crouches down, using the barrel of his blaster to tip Jon's head up so he can meet his eyes.

“You even _twitch_ in a way I don’t like and I kill you,” he warns, then grabs Jon by the neck of his cloak and hauls him up, shoving him down onto his knees and taking his blaster. Katooni makes a noise of protest, but she doesn’t struggle, just looks at Jon with wide, worried eyes, and Jon holds her gaze, tries to promise that they’ll be all right without lying.

“You're not the Death Watch,” he says, and there's a snort above him, a blaster muzzle digging into the back of his neck.

“Thanks for noticing,” Jango says flatly. “Who the hell are you?”

“Jon Antilles,” a voice says, and Jon stiffens. “Or at least, that’s the name he gave me.”

“Jaster!” the woman says, turning, and the man from the auction smiles at her as he steps into the room, then lets his gaze slide down to Katooni. One brow rises, and he glances at Jon.

“You didn’t mention your job was less bounty hunting and more _theft_ ,” he says mildly.

With a sound of fury, Katooni jerks, wriggles, and before the Madalorian woman can grab her, she rips herself free of the hold and throws herself forward, right between Jon and Jaster. “Leave him _alone_!” she says loudly, and Jon can't help the sound of fear that’s wrenched from him, his jerk to grab Katooni and haul her out of the way—

Jango lets go, lifts his blaster, and Jon hauls Katooni towards him, puts his body between her and the rest of the room. She makes a sound of protest, clutching at his shirt, but Jon just looks up, meets Jaster's gaze and _dares_ him to try and take her away again.

“Take me, if you want,” he says. “But let her go, and let me call someone to come get Katooni first.”

Jaster doesn’t answer, doesn’t react. He studies Jon for a moment, then says, “Come control your nexu. She’s trying to eat my men. Then we can discuss terms, bounty hunter.”

Hands grab Jon's arms, haul him to his feet, but the Mandalorians don’t pull Katooni away, don’t keep her from attaching herself to Jon's side like a barnacle. And—at this point, Jon will take it.

His comm is beeping quietly again, an insistent drone of sound beneath the echo of armor and heavy boots, and Jon closes his eyes, curses Nico and Knol, and lets the Mandalorians drag them out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current update schedule:
> 
> 14 February - heartlines  
> 16 February - trade your heart for bones to know  
> 21 February - these soldiers have sun-fired bones  
> 23 February - you will open your wounds (and make them a garden)  
> 28 February - and love is a call to arms  
> 2 March - efface the footprints in the sands  
> 7 March - heartlines  
> 9 March - The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Time-Travelers  
> 14 March - these soldiers have sun-fired bones

The akk wolves are nowhere to be seen when they reach the end of the tunnel, but the nexu is trying to batter her way through the doors.

“Silas!” Jango says, just as the doors heave inward. There's a snarl, hair-raising and furious, and Jon can feel the nexu’s gleeful sort of joy in thinking she’s cornered her prey. It’s almost playful as she throws herself against the doors, making the group of Mandalorians holding them shout, shove back. Her intent spikes, and she does it again just as Jango and the woman in black and yellow armor shove Jon forward.

“Jango,” a man in green and gold returns, nodding to Jango and then dipping his head to the woman. “Arla. We managed to round up most of the surviving guests, but…”

On cue, the nexu howls, and the doors bow inward with a slam. Silas winces.

Letting them kill the nexu just because she’s on a hunting high isn't something Jon can stand for. He whistles, high and sharp, and at the same time reaches out, touching her thoughts. Not taking control, but—blunting that edge of _hunt-fight-eat_ into something lighter and less dangerous, like joy at a nest full of kittens.

Instantly, the banging stops. There's a moment of silence, and then the nexu croons, mind full of eagerness as she paces closer. Her low rumble pitches up, into a questioning sound, and Jon says, “Let me go. I can calm her.”

The woman pauses, glancing from Jon to Katooni and then back behind them. “Jaster?” she asks.

“It will be fine, Arla,” Jaster says, steps quiet on the stone as he approaches. “Release him and call our forces back.”

Arla doesn’t more for a moment, exchanging looks with Jango, but after a second she nods, stepping back. “All right,” she says. “Girl, come on. Back here.”

“No,” Katooni says stubbornly, and her grip on Jon's belt tightens. “I'm staying with Jon. It’s fine.”

One of the first thing any Jedi learns is how to calm a dangerous animal, so Jon inclines his head, curling a hand around her thin shoulders. “She’s good with animals,” he says quietly, and meets Jaster's narrowed eyes, letting Jaster see his certainty. It must work, because after a moment Jaster inclines his head, slants a glance over at the trickle of Mandalorians retreating from the doors towards the mouth of the tunnel, and doesn’t move.

“ _Jaster_ ,” Arla says, frustrated. “ _You're_ not good with animals, if I can remind you.”

A flicker of indignation crosses Jaster's face. “I'm fine with animals.”

“I don’t know why you're bothering,” Jango says, amused, and takes three long steps back as the nexu thumps lightly at the door. His blaster is out and ready. “If the Mand’alor gets eaten without declaring an heir, we get to have our war of succession, right?”

Mand’alor, Jon thinks with a start, and turns before he can help himself, taking a quick step back and pulling Katooni with him. He’d thought—True Mandalorians raiding a Death Watch operation is one thing, but this is the _Mand’alor_ leading a raid on a Death Watch-run auction, an auction selling a rumored Jedi—

“Just contain the nexu,” Jaster tells him, meeting his eyes. “You won't come to any more harm unless you offer harm to my people. Do we have an agreement?”

Jon breathes in, but there's no active warning in the Force, nothing beyond an echoing sense of rightness from the planet as a whole. With a nod, he reaches again, tightening his grip on Katooni, and tells her softly, “Remember, don’t be afraid. Even if something goes wrong, I’ll protect you.”

It’s the first lesson. Feeding fear into the Force will echo through the animal they're trying to calm, make the whole thing a thousand times harder. Jon has no idea what Katooni knows and what she doesn’t; from what Knol was able to tell him, Krell was a well-respected Master, but after his actions, every part of that is in doubt.

“I'm not afraid,” Katooni says boldly, and looks up at Jon with a smile. “The nexu is just like me, right? And you rescued both of us.”

Jon's throat feels tight. He _tried_ to rescue both of them, but so far, it hasn’t gone anywhere close to what he expected. Still, Katooni deserves an answer, and he brushes her tendrils. “Yes. Remember, calm.”

Katooni nods, hooking her fingers in his belt a little more tightly. Jon can feel her steadying, breath evening out, and when she feels ready he whistles again, lower, and pairs it with a touch to the nexu’s thoughts, urging her on. She hisses happily, and this time when she hits the doors they give. There's a concerted jerk behind them, blasters coming up as the Mandalorians react, but Jon doesn’t waver, just steps forward. The nexu doesn’t even hesitate that much; she hits them gleefully, winding around them with her quills shivering happily, and croons low and intent as she ducks her head to nose at Katooni.

“She’s just scenting you,” Jon says soothingly, reaching up to rub her fur between her two sets of eyes.

“She’s _big_ ,” Katooni says, delighted, and reaches up, ignoring the fact that the nexu’s mouth is as long as she is tall. She strokes the grey-striped fur of the nexu’s shoulder, then laughs as the nexu raises a paw. Jon keeps a careful eye on them, but the nexu doesn’t use the huge, hooked claw, just wraps a paw around Katooni's back, and Jon's as well, and hauls them both in, rubbing the edge of her huge head against them in turn. The force of it rocks Jon back on his heels, and there's an indrawn breath behind him, but he raises a hand to show he has things under control and hums a low note.

Cocking her head, the nexu looks down on him, then lets her jaw split in a massive, toothy grin and croons back. Her thoughts are a tangle of satisfaction and sated appetite and a predator’s smug contentment after a successful hunt, and Jon is willing to bet that a good number of the guests didn’t escape her claws.

Still, there's nothing in her mind now that speaks of aggression, and Jon is keeping a close eye on the state of her thoughts as he strokes her head. Nexus are predators, but—most animals aren’t unreasonable once someone understands what they want, and that’s one advantage a Jedi will always have.

“Gently,” he tells Katooni, and sinks down, crossing his legs beneath himself. Immediately, Katooni drops next to him, and the nexu pauses, considering them for a long moment, then looking at the Mandalorians tense and ready at the far end of the room.

Then, with a deliberate lack of concern, she rumbles a loud purr and sprawls out beside them, dropping the tip of her chin in Jon's lap when the rest of her head proves too big to fit.

Jon can't help but laugh a little, smoothing the sharp quills back. He pushes his hood away from his face, then reaches out, guiding one of Katooni's hands to the spot where the nexu likes to be scratched beneath the chin.

“Pay attention to her body language,” he says, and Katooni slants a glance at him that says she knows what he _actually_ means. Jon gives her a faint, crooked smile, but turns back to the nexu and says, “She’s happy right now, but if you see her starting to get upset, move back. She’s still a wild creature, and even someone with experience won't always be able to predict her actions.”

“I will,” Katooni promises, and smiles softly as the nexu presses into her fingers, gently, like she knows Katooni can't take her full weight. _Kitten_ , in her thoughts, and Katooni leans into Jon's side. There's still a faint tremor deep within her, something Jon can feel clearly, but she curls her free hand into Jon's and squeezes tightly. “See?” she says, and it only wavers a little bit. “Just like me. You saved both of us.”

Jon swallows, and he can't help but reach out, sliding an arm over Katooni's shoulders and pulling her tight against his side. “I'm sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” he says, low, and Katooni shakes her head, burying her face in his cloak.

“It’s okay,” she says, and her voice cracks. “I knew—I knew as soon as I saw you that it was going to be fine. And it’s not going to happen again, so that’s okay, too, right?”

“Never again,” Jon promises, and means it down to the depths of his soul. He hadn’t ever planned to take a padawan, but—the Force put him here, and this is right. He was meant to find Katooni. And now that he has, he’ll lay down his life to protect her.

Katooni doesn’t move, just holds onto him, her face hidden. Jon keeps his grip tight, and when the nexu croons softly, worry flickering across her thoughts, he soothes her with a low hum, lifting his hand. She shifts, settling beside him instead of on top of him, and her tail twitches protectively, eyes trained on Jon and Katooni with an intent that reads as anything but predatory.

“It’s all right,” Jon tells her, brushing his thoughts across hers. “Don’t worry.”

She huffs, but doesn’t move. Only her eyes shift, sliding past Jon as there’s a quiet step. When Jon doesn’t react, though, she doesn’t either, and she stays where she is as Jaster crouches down beside them. On Jon's far side, away from Katooni, and it’s a small gesture but it still helps settle the instinctive jerk in Jon's chest.

“ _Jaster_ ,” Arla hisses from further away, but Jaster raises a hand to fend her off and gives Jon a crooked smile.

“Very impressive,” he says, and when Katooni raises her head enough to give him a wary look, he turns that smile on her. “You're a fearless one, aren’t you?”

Katooni's fingers curl tighter in Jon's cloak. “I wasn’t,” she says, still a little muffled. “When they—when they took me, I was really scared. But I faced it, and tried to figure out how I could get away. And as soon as I did, Jon came.”

 _All moves as the Force wills it,_ Jon thinks, clear enough for Katooni to catch. There's no bond between them, not yet, but touch conveys emotion, memories, and those words are ones all Jedi know. He can hear the hitch in her breath, the way she presses closer, the tremble in her hands, and he threads a hand through her tendrils, leans in to rest his forehead against the top of her head.

“You’re very brave,” he murmurs. “I'm honored to have you in my lineage, Katooni.”

Katooni is practically burrowed into his side already, but she wraps her arms around his chest as best she can, squeezing tightly. The vibration of her joy and relief and gratitude makes Jon's throat tight, and she says, muffled, “I’ll make you proud, I promise.”

“I already am,” Jon tells her, and it’s true. The Jedi Order is entirely lineages, skills and specialties passed down between teacher and student with little overlap, and Jon had planned to let the skills Dark Woman left him die out, but…Katooni is brave and sure and already survived something that would have made most padawans fall to the Dark Side. If anyone can be trusted with what he knows, it’s her. Jon has faith in that.

“I hate to interrupt,” Jaster says quietly, and when Jon glances over at him, he’s still smiling. “But the Death Watch has been known to rig their bases to blow once they reach orbit, and I wouldn’t trust that they didn’t do the same here. Come.”

The Mand’alor, Jon thinks, and has to swallow, tightening his grip on Katooni. “What does the Mand’alor want with a bounty hunter and his foundling?” he asks quietly, because there's no hostility in Jaster, nothing dangerous to them. It feels more like consideration than anything, careful and deft, and he meets Jon's eyes without hesitation. But—

The Mandalorian Empire is vast and strong and has stood for _centuries_. Jaster united the whole thing behind him, overthrew House Vizsla and ended their reign, and there's no man in the known universe more dangerous right now.

“As little as I think you’re truly involved with the Death Watch, I didn’t live this long by being careless,” Jaster says. “Everyone rounded up here will be checked for connections to those trying to bring my empire down.”

It’s reasonable. It’s even helpful; if there are still rumors of Katooni being a Jedi circulating, spending time in the seat of Mandalorian power will quash them thoroughly. Jon inclines his head, accepting that, and asks, “If I use your comm, can I contact my partners? They should know Katooni is safe.”

Jaster raises a brow. “Names?” he asks.

Jon gives him a wry smile. “Nico Diath and Knol Ven'nari. Smugglers.”

That makes Jaster snort, and he nods. “I've heard of them,” he says dryly. “Fond of fire, aren’t they?”

“Knol is,” Jon allows, rueful. “And Nico is hardly going to stop her.”

“I hardly object to smugglers, given Mandalorian history,” Jaster says. “You're welcome to comm them once we’re aboard my ship.”

“I'm staying with Jon,” Katooni says, like it’s a dare, and she lifts her head to give Jaster a defiant look. “Even if you lock us up, I'm staying with him.”

Instead of brushing her off, Jaster meets her gaze squarely. “I would never remove a child from their parent’s care,” he says gravely. “Not when that child was not in danger. You will not be separated from him, Katooni. You have my word.”

Katooni relaxes slightly, and she nods firmly, accepting that. Jon hugs her a little tighter into his side, not able to help the wash of relief even though trusting Jaster likely isn't the best idea, and when he glances up, Jaster is watching them both with a faint smile.

“You have my word as well,” he tells Jon, and offers him a hand. “No harm will come to you if you offer no threat to my people.”

Jon has been a bounty hunter for two decades now, and no one will try to argue his identity. Whatever Jaster is looking for, he won't find it, so Jon feels safe enough to reach out and take his hand. His grip is firm, long, callused fingers curling around Jon's wrist, and Jon shifts Katooni slightly, then lets Jaster pull him to his feet.

“I have no quarrel with the Mandalorian Empire,” Jon says quietly. “I don’t even operate within your borders usually. But Katooni was taken, and I couldn’t…”

Couldn’t _let_ her be lost. Not when her Master was at fault. It made him think too much of Aurra, of Dark Woman letting a _little girl_ be taken by pirates, with no intention of going after them. Jon had managed to save her, had been close enough and followed the trail and rescued her before she could be hurt, but she’d been terrified, traumatized. Knowing that Katooni was facing the same thing, that she was even younger, even more vulnerable with less training, that Jon was already much further behind than he had been with the pirates by the time he dealt with Krell—

A hand comes up, and motion near his face makes Jon flinch, but Jaster keeps his motions steady and obvious as he lays a hand on Jon's shoulder, squeezing gently. “You and Katooni being in my court will keep the Death Watch well away from her,” he says, and when Jon looks at him with a flicker of surprise, he snorts. “We were led here by rumors that The Death Watch was auctioning off a Jedi,” he says, and Katooni's hands fist in Jon's cloak, remembered fear flickering to life. “Unless you're very skilled at disappearing, they're likely to come after you again.”

Jon hasn’t heard anything about the Death Watch chasing Jedi, and something cold prickles down his spine, twists into trepidation. He glances down at Katooni, finds her looking back with wide eyes, and grimaces.

“They won't get you again,” he tells her, an oath in every way that matters, and Katooni nods, but she buries her face in his cloak again. Something in Jon's chest turns over, and he breathes out, pulling her just a little closer as the ache beneath his ribs grows.

Jaster's grip on him lightens, hand sliding. He presses his hand to Jon's back, gentle grounding, and says softly, “Let me protect you until the Death Watch has been dealt with, Jon. You and Katooni will be safe with us.”

“We’re not with the Death Watch,” Jon says, because he can't think of anything else. “I've never had business with them. I don’t—they shouldn’t have any reason to know Katooni even _exists_.”

“They're like rats, unfortunately,” Jaster says, and there's no humor in it. “Always getting where they're least welcome. Whatever brought Katooni to their attention, you have my word we will work to see it quashed.”

It’s likely the best offer they're going to get, and Jon breathes out, inclines his head. “Thank you, Mand’alor,” he offers quietly. “I don’t—you likely don’t need the services of one bounty hunter, but anything I can offer—”

“No services are required,” Jaster says, and puts gentle pressure on Jon's back, guiding him forward towards the rest of the Mandalorians. “I'm glad to offer my assistance. But if you’re willing to tell us how you found this auction in the first place, it might help us track the Death Watch’s allies.”

“Of course,” Jon says, and his cloak and shirt are too thick to feel the heat of Jaster's hand splayed over the small of his back, but he almost thinks he can regardless. It’s a little hard to breathe; Jaster is close, and there’s nothing but concern in his mind, a touch of warmth in the calm tide of his emotions. He means what he says, and—

Claws scratch stone, and with a pleased rumble the nexu levers herself to her feet and follows a pace behind them.

Jaster pauses, and Jon stops, rueful amusement bubbling up in his chest. When Jaster looks at him, one brow raised, he grimaces, and offers, “She isn't mine.”

With a soft snort, Jaster glances back at the nexu, then shifts, taking a step towards her. She cocks her head slightly, watching him, but doesn’t protest when he raises a hand to gently stroke her shoulder.

“She _wasn’t_ yours,” he corrects, smiling. “And I suppose this planet is rather cold for a jungle creature, if we were going to leave her.”

“She’ll go if I tell her to,” Jon says honestly, though he doesn’t like the idea of leaving her in the middle of this planet’s ice age steppes. The akk wolves will be fine; they're used to cold climates, and there are two of them. But the nexu likely won't do nearly as well on her own.

“Will she stay in one of the cargo holds?” Jaster asks. “If provided with food, of course.”

Jon pauses, ghosting a thought across hers. _Nest_ , he thinks, and offers the image of a dark hold, blankets, meat. The nexu’s quills flutter, and she rumbles, a sleepy sense of contentment rising. She’s hunted, and now she wants to sleep, and if Jon has a den for her she’ll take it gladly.

“I think so,” he says, and glances at Jaster. “You’re willing to let a nexu loose on your ship?”

“Hardly loose, if she’s in the hold,” Jaster says, unperturbed. “It seems like you have her well enough in hand, regardless.”

“Thank you,” Jon says quietly. It’s not an offer most people would make. That Jaster would even think to ask says something about him. “She’s fed herself, so she likely won't need to eat again for a few days.”

“Fed herself on some nicely fattened guests,” Jaster says dryly. “Your slight of hand is very good. I didn’t even see you open the lock on her cage.”

“Charges,” Jon lies, but—it’s a good enough explanation. “I assumed she and the akk wolf would make a good distraction.”

“They did, I assure you,” Jaster says dryly. “Good enough that we moved early to round everyone up.” He puts a hand on Jon's back again, steering him forward, and says, pitched to carry, “Myles, would you have someone prepare an empty hold for this lovely lady? And a room for Jon and Katooni as well.”

There's a moment of complete silence, and then the man in blue armor, the one Katooni hit, makes a sound of disbelief. “Mand’alor?” he demands, and Jon doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Jaster winces faintly.

“The nexu will be accompanying us,” he says regardless. “Jon will see to it that she behaves.”

Jango makes a sound of disbelief, but before he can say anything, Arla reaches out and thumps him in the side of the helmet, loud as a gong. He yelps, and she shoves his head down, then asks over his curse, “We’re not putting them with the prisoners?”

Jaster's mouth tightens. “The Death Watch wants the girl,” he says, and Arla huffs in disgust.

“Want them in one close to your quarters?” she asks, a touch of humor coloring her voice, and Jaster gives her a narrow look, pointedly not answering. It makes her snort, but she steps forward, reaching up to pull her helmet off, and then crouches down in front of Katooni, offering her hand with a warm smile. “You fight well. Not many younglings could take out a grown Mandalorian.”

Katooni grins at her. “I like your armor,” she says. “The gold is pretty.”

“Thank you, I like it too.” Arla tips her helmet, showing Katooni the mythosaur skull emblazoned across the faceplate. “The black is for justice, and the gold means vengeance. I'm Jaster's heir, so—”

“You are not,” Jango says, annoyed, and shoves her head down as she laughs. “He hasn’t _picked_ an heir yet, and when he does—”

Jaster sighs, but his expression is all amusement. “Move, both of you,” he tells them, full of resigned exasperation. “Get the troops back to the ship, Arla. Jango, if you would oversee the loading of the prisoners?”

“Yes, sir,” Jango says, and pushes Arla with a foot. “Come on, you can complement her ability to dent codpieces later. Work.”

“I'm going, I'm going.” Arla gives Katooni a swift grin, then slides her helmet back on and rises. She nods to Jon and Jaster, then turns and marches away, calling a few quick orders in Mando’a that have most of the troops falling in with her. A handful split off to follow Jango when he waves, heading down a different tunnel, and another handful stay where they are, along with Myles. He’s still staring at Jaster though his helmet, radiating judgement loudly enough that Jon is sure even those without a connection to the Force can feel it.

Jaster most _definitely_ can. He pauses, looking from Myles to the nexu, and then says, “She’s very well-behaved.”

Myles sighs, but nods. “I’ll get it set up,” he promises, and slants a glance at Jon. “Bounty hunter. Human, or should I make arrangements?”

“Human,” Jon confirms, and he hesitates, then pulls his hood back. Katooni's already seen his face, after all, and her reaction is the only one he cares about.

Myles simply nods, not showing even a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t think we have any Tholothians with children in our forces right now,” he says, and Jon can feel his frown, his consideration. “But I can send someone to find a headdress, if you need it.”

Jon glances down at Katooni. “I was going to take you to Tholoth to get a new one,” he says quietly, because the patterns and design of Tholothian headdresses has as much individual meaning as Mandalorian armor. “But if you want one now…”

Quickly, Katooni shakes her head. “I’ll wait,” she says. “There’s a maker on Tholoth who knows Yoda.”

A Jedi, then. Jon breathes out, accepting that, and runs a hand over her tendrils again. “We’ll go see them as soon as possible,” he promises, and Katooni beams at him, gripping his hand tightly.

“Thank you, Jon,” she says happily.

“Of course,” Jon returns, and looks up at Jaster, steeling himself. “I can keep my comm?”

Jaster pauses for a moment, then inclines his head. “Transmissions aboard the ship are monitored,” he warns, “but you’re welcome to contact who you like.”

“Thank you,” Jon murmurs. There's an itch under his skin, an urge to reach out to Aurra that doesn’t surface often, but—

Katooni and Aurra both were taken. Jon managed to rescue both of them through chance more than anything, and he trusts the Force, always, but.

What could have happened looms, and it _aches_.

Katooni's tug on his hand stirs him from his dark thoughts, and he glances down at her smile. She tightens her grip on his fingers, then asks, “Can I give the nexu a name?”

Jon snorts before he can help himself, kneeling down. Sensing his intention, Katooni immediately scrambles up onto his back, winding her arms around his neck and pressing their temples together. The weight of her so close is reassuring, and Jon hooks an arm beneath her to support her. “If you want,” he agrees, and Katooni smiles.

“Good,” she says. “Everyone needs a name, right?”

He won't be like Dark Woman, Jon thinks, and breathes out. He can be like Fay. This is just more proof.

“Yes,” he confirms quietly. “Everyone needs a name.”

Jaster is watching him, careful, thoughtful, but when Jon catches his eye, he just inclines his head and ushers Jon forward, towards the surface.


End file.
